Emotional Cancer
by cosmo-queen
Summary: It takes the incident in "Bloodlines" to make Sara realise how true Grissom was whenever he told her to stay detached.


DISCLAIMER: Nope. Don't own CSI. Sure, I may torture the characters, but you can't sue someone for being bored with their life and thus wanting to write about TV characters, can you now? You can? In that case, just let me get something out of my car...

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**_EMOTIONAL CANCER_**

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I still remember what he first said to me when I finally arrived in Vegas.

"I don't even have to turn around. Sara Sidle."

Oh, how my heart had soared when I heard that. I'm not the kind of person who accepts change easily - I like order, I like stability. When Grissom enlisted my help all those years ago, I'd felt some reservations about handing my life to change so abruptly for it to cast me in some sort of grossly unrehearsed drama. But when I heard those words, moving to Las Vegas became the best thing I'd ever done. I was prepared to take the risks associated with it and use them to my advantage to achieve the best possible outcomes available to me. I look back now and pity myself for being so naive.

You see, love is a lot like cancer. No-one knows exactly what causes a mutant cell to become an oncogene, but one day, you wake up, you go to the doctors and you learn you have cancer. You don't know exactly when everything changed, but you assume it was a build-up over time that you perhaps ignored for fear of what it would change. But when it hits you, it hits you. From that moment on, life becomes a lot more complicated and a lot more tiring. You have to fight, you have to maintain hope, all the while leaving your life to chance. Sometimes, life improves, but other times, it worsens.

Love is exactly the same. It can change your life for the better or it can destroy it. I don't know what made me fall in love, but one day, I woke up with a start and realised I loved Gil Grissom. I don't know exactly when I started liking him, but to get to that point, I must have had the feelings for a while. I just wouldn't admit it because I was too scared of what being in love would do to me. But when I had that epiphany, I could ignore those feelings no longer. Life became complicated and sometimes, downright exhausting. It didn't interfere with my work, I wouldn't let it. But at home, there's nothing to distract you. Instead of relaxing, I would analyse. Instead of sleeping, I would evaluate. Sure, the latter only worsened my sleep deprivation. But waking from lovely dreams only made me miserable because he was in Vegas and I was in San Francisco. Still, I wouldn't give up. I had to keep hoping just in case an opportunity presented itself. And then I got that call. I had never considered fate until that day.

I didn't care what it was when I heard him say those nine words. What mattered was that I could finally see again the man I loved. His words only reaffirmed my love. There was a mutual understanding between us, some sort of bond. At least, that's what I thought at the time. How else would he have known I was there, felt my presence without even looking around? I realise now my feelings had interfered with my work - they'd caused me to lose my logic. I mean, a true scientist wouldn't have been so stupid as to assume that not turning around to greet someone means you love them as much as they love you. If anything, I'd misinterpreted the sign. Grissom would always care too much for his work to pay any attention to me.

It didn't take until his confession to Vincent Lurie for me to realise that though. No, I came to my senses long before that. At that stage, however, I wasn't deterred. As long as there was contact between us, there was hope. I began to live for the times we were assigned to the same case because that's where the opportunities lie. I admit, I never really developed them. Rather, I stuck to leaning over his shoulder while we mused about evidence or brushing his hand as I went to pick up a file that was conveniently close to him. The subtly of my manipulations never bothered me though - one day, things would surely progress. For now, we could be working on a frustrating case, but bumping into each other would leave me on cloud nine for days. As soon as the high faded, I would try again. Yes, I smiled a lot back in those days.

It got to a point though where I dared myself to be move past the subtleties and be more obvious. Like the time Grissom had chalk on his face. As soon as this came to my attention, I debated with myself whether or not to tell him and let him wipe it off himself or take him by surprise and do it myself. Pathetic, I know, I certainly wouldn't have lost sleep about it if it was anyone else. But at that stage, the chalk had to go and it was creating one of my precious opportunities. I decided to be bold, surprise him. I could always say that I couldn't stand people having things on their face. Which wasn't a lie. But in the end, the response he gave me wasn't what I was hoping for, and I simply felt embarrassed. That was the first time that it crossed my mind that perhaps I was wasting my time. It may have been the briefest of thoughts, but it was one of those niggling thoughts, that, once they enter your mind, they won't leave.

My next bold move would have been when I asked him to dinner after the lab explosion. I'd returned to my subtle ways after the chalk incident, promising myself that I'd keep any further surprises to myself until he showed some interest. Ah yes, I was still hopeful back then that Grissom could have eyes for someone other than his bugs. But waiting is hard, especially if you may be waiting for nothing. By the day of the explosion, I had become sick of waiting. Maybe, there was no chance of us ever getting our acts together, but perhaps there could be a chance if I made one. I had planned to talk to him, and yet, I realised as I watched him walk into his office that I had lost my confidence around him.

Then the explosion happened, and somehow I ended up in the parking lot, concerned for Greg and feeling pretty sorry for myself as well. Yet, if I hadn't been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Grissom would never have come over to me, showed concern for my wellbeing, held my hands and called me 'honey', all in the space of five minutes. Talk about good arising from a bad situation. Perhaps this was the interest I'd been craving, perhaps now I would finally be able to reveal my surprises. The surprises I had almost forgotten but would happily brainstorm again, even if, in the end, all I'd probably end up doing would be falling asleep on his shoulder due to extreme sleep deprivation. And I don't think that would surprise him very much at all. Whatever the case, it was the first time in a long time that lacking sleep suddenly appeared to have sexy consequences.

I knew I was getting ahead of myself, acting very much like those immature schoolgirls I'd never really liked. But for once, there was hope, and having hope makes you giddy, and I would celebrate my giddiness for as long as it lasted. Which wasn't very long. I asked him to dinner. The lab explosion had reminded me that time can change your life as you know it whenever it pleases. Life is short so live it up. Isn't that what they say? Ah, cliches, always knowing how to deflate my self-esteem. But yes, I asked him, and I wouldn't be acting so bitter now if he'd said yes. If he'd at least given us a chance. If he hadn't taken away in five minutes all the hope he had given me in the same amount of time. Or less. How's that for rejection? You see, having become so merry, I'd forgotten that hope also makes you naive.

Oh, how I began hating all those girls in high school who'd say, "you can't just sit around and pine after a man, if you want a relationship to develop, it's up to you to make the first move". I'd taken their useless "girl power" advice and it had got me nowhere. Of course, now they'd say that there's no point in chasing after someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings. Besides, "you deserve better, honey". Ha. As if they knew. It was merely superficial sympathy talking: "I'm madly in love, but you're a bit of a sad case, aren't you, single, insecure, in your thirties, tut tut, here, I really don't care how you're feeling but I guess I feel sorry for you so I'll pretend I care. Have I mentioned how fabulous my life is at the moment?". Yes, I always suspected that all these girls really wanted to do was make you envy them by seeing the sort of life you could be living. At least divorce rates are on the rise.

My bitterness obviously grew. But the simple truth remains that I _was_ jealous. I _was_ insecure. It was that insecurity that had always held me back in the past, that fear that I'd work up the courage to tell Grissom how I feel about him and have those feelings rejected. But the tenderness he showed me when he held my hands blinded me for I thought that such a gentleman would surely allay my fears. Instead, he made them worse. That's when the bitterness turned to misery. All I wanted was for one of my smiles to mean as much to Grissom as one of his smiles meant to me.

There were times that I thought that perhaps I did deserve better. Yet at the end of the day, I couldn't just turn off the feelings I had for him. I would've liked to. I began then to wish that I was more like other women, that I could get over men as easily as they did. But one of my unfortunate traits just so happened to be that when I got "hooked" on a guy, I got hooked really bad. It wouldn't have mattered so much if my love wasn't unrequited. It wouldn't even be a bad thing then. It was this sudden optimistic thought in a field of grey pessimism that lightened my mood. Somehow, I had been reminded to take control of my feelings, not the other way around. That's when I decided that, though he had pushed me away, I would come back.

It meant, however, having to revert back to stage one. I would simply have to be content with making him laugh again. I quickly revised that. Making Grissom laugh was a difficult task for anyone. I couldn't start with such high expectations because that would only lead to disappointments. I would have to build up from the basics. Therefore, my goal became to make him smile. As much as possible. If anything was ever going to develop between us, if I was ever to be noticed, I would have to work on salvaging our friendship first.

I tried and I tried. Sure, there was the occasional smile, and I'll never forget the day I actually _did _make him laugh. But such occurrences were few and far between. There were always boundaries stopping me, always something in the way. And I realised too, that something had happened to me. I thought that I had the energy to keep fighting but somehow I'd become less immune to overcoming setbacks. I'd always been proud of my endurance, my determination, my persistence because I could always rely on these aspects of my inner will to come through for me. But now my defences were breaking. I didn't like it. My work depended on maintaining those defences. Without them, I would not be able to survive. And I'd always promised myself that I would never willingly allow my love for Gil Grissom to interfere with work. I saw now that it had, and for far too long. I could not ignore this realisation. No matter how impossible it seemed, I _would _turn off those feelings. I had to. Despite the fact that he would never intentionally hurt anyone, Grissom was now a danger to me.

I suppose that's why his confession to Lurie didn't hurt me as much as it could have. I won't lie and say those words didn't affect me at all, because they did. Yet in a good way. If that makes any sense. They reaffirmed to me that my decision to end this unrequited love affair was the right thing to do. Whatever tiny hope had been lingering in the shadows of my mind died. He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk himself for me. But I couldn't do it either. I wouldn't risk myself for him any longer.

With that decision, my nights became restless. Now that I wouldn't let myself fall asleep with Grissom on my mind, I had to amuse myself with something else. That's when I turned to the bottle. And boy, did it let me sleep. I'd drink enough to knock me out without leaving a hangover for the following morning. I mean, I wouldn't stop letting Grissom interfere with my work only to let alcohol do the job. No, save that one slip-up which resulted in Brass and me having a bit of a chat, I wasn't that stupid. But I was depressed. Obviously, I didn't take well to break-ups. It was funny though, I felt more miserable after this one-sided break-up than what I did when I learnt the truth about Hank, when a real relationship came to an end. I thought a bit about Hank. One night, I stood in front of the mirror and pondered what the hell he had seen in me. If he was going to cheat on his girlfriend, then he at least should've chosen someone worth risking everything for. Ah, Hank, he was a bit stupid, wasn't he? But Grissom, well, he wasn't stupid. No wonder he didn't take any notice of me. There was nothing to take any notice of. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I was stupid. Nick, Warrick and I were out, celebrating Nick's promotion. Except I couldn't help but feel jealous. I smiled to reassure him that I didn't really care that I hadn't received the promotion instead. That wasn't too hard to do. I mean, I'd spent so many years now withholding my true feelings to people. But inside of me, I was jealous. And when we parted, that jealousy turned into guilt. Here I was, envying one of the kindest friends I could ever hope to have, all because of _him_.

I wanted to apologise to Nick, but I decided not to waste his time. He deserved a better friend than me. Besides, if I went to him now, an additional person would have reason for suspicion. And I couldn't have anyone knowing. But as fate would have it, I was booked. And _he_ was told. And _he_ came down to the police station. And _he_ held my hands and told me he would take me home.

There would've been a time I would've responded by breaking down in his arms, sobbing hysterically just so that he'd hold me and smooth my hair. But now, all I could do was berate myself for my stupidity. It had been brought to his attention that his CSI was a drunk. And I knew how he'd respond. He wouldn't lecture me, he wouldn't scream at me. He'd simply ask me quietly what had gone wrong in my life, what had made me feel the need to turn to the bottle. And what was I supposed to say? What the _hell _was I supposed to say?

Well, I contemplated what I'd say the entire way home. It was a silent journey, but I still didn't have anything planned. It wasn't until he asked me, just as I opened my front door, that it came to me. So I turned around to look him in the eye and asked him if he remembered all those times he'd told me not to get attached to cases, to victims, to people. He'd nodded, so I'd continued. I told him he was right. Attaching yourself to people is just not worth it. Then I closed the door in his face. He seemed confused, shocked, and dare I say it, he even seemed hurt. But I knew he would turn slowly around and go back to his car. Walk away, like he always did. I wasn't wrong. Thankfully. I wouldn't know what I'd have done if he'd demanded to come in, because I stayed up all night, thinking. Thinking how, when his hands were holding mine, I didn't feel a thing.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've only recently become hooked on CSI, meaning this is my first ever CSI fanfic. I know this was a bit angsty, keywords: just a bit, but I felt like writing a more depressing post-Bloodlines fic. Which is ironic, considering the Bloodlines episode hasn't even aired in Australia yet. Oh well. One thing I do know is that Mr Grissom has to get his act together because Sara certainly ain't gonna wait around for him forever. In my world, anyway :)


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